Antidote That Gets Me By
by completetherainbow
Summary: Harry has been around for a long time. He just wants to vacation for the next 10 or so years in New York, at least until Hermione gets off his back. He'd never expected to meet someone he felt a real connection to. Especially not a man like Kilgrave. But, why in Merlin's name is some private eye following him? AU! MOD Harry! CREATURE KILGRAVE SLASH!
1. Beautiful Stranger

AN: So... I'm starting this, too. This just came out when I was trying to start the second chapter for Uninvited. Oops... Ahem, Please review!

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Chapter One: Beautiful Stranger

Harry glanced around the club, nursing his whiskey. The drink burned on the way down, but he hardly noticed. He wondered why he was here. No, he knew why he was here. Hermione. She'd told him to get back out into the world and do something with his life. He'd refused to join the Auror program. He and Ginny had given their relationship a try, but when he'd walked in on her and Dean Thomas, he'd called it off, despite her pleas.

That had been... so long ago.

He couldn't really remember how long it'd been. He'd not been alone since, but he hadn't actively sought someone out for companionship more than two or three times. It upset the whole family that he chose to be single for so long. And, it really had been long. Dame near twenty years. All of his friends had some grey hair now. And lines around their eyes. Ron's wand shook as he held it in his hands. Hermione was now on arthritis potions. Ginny's daughter was entering the Auror program.

Harry... hadn't really aged a day. He'd shot up in his last year of school, while searching for the Horrocrux's. Had grown to almost as tall as Ron, and bulking up. Hermione had said she'd put nutrition potions in the food so that they could have as many calories as possible while there was little to go around. Still, the nutrition potion's had helped. He'd also built up quite a bit of muscle. He was what the youth of today called "fit". He looked around nineteen, and had for the passed sixty-eight years.

The Master of the Deathly Hollows. He hated that term, but it was who he was. He'd spoken to Death. The bastard had refused to take them back and give him what he wanted. Mortality. Harry was an immortal. "A wizard who is an immortal. The most powerful creature on the planet. Don't fuck it up." Death warned, before he disappeared.

The years went on, and his friends began to age, while he stayed the same. He had decided, when they reached an age where they wouldn't need him much anymore, he would travel across the world. He'd been many places. Seen many things. Japan, where the Shinto were, he had learned taming his body and his mind and water magic. Greece, where he'd learned from the priests and priestess about earth magic and being grounded. China and the power of the dragon and fire magic and how to handle his emotions and thoughts. He was finally a master Occlumens and Legimens. And, finally up to Greenland, where wind magic was favored and how to survive anywhere.

Currently, he was in New York, on vacation. Where Hermione had sent him, after he'd come home to see them. She had listened to his tales, how he'd lived in the other countries for years to hone his abilities and how he'd come to master almost all forms of elemental magic. He'd been planning to go to South Africa, to learn the most ancient of magics. But, before he could even get out what his plan was, his best friend stood, planted her hands on her hips and glared down at him.

"You, young man," She started, as Harry scoffed, "are taking a vacation!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, we're the same bloody age!"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Harry Potter!"

Harry flinched at the use of his name. He always felt like Aunt Petunia was shouting at him when she used his name like that. Feeling properly chastised, he agreed to take a small, ten year, vacation. Besides, he still had all of his inheritance to spend. Which, honestly at this point, was just compounding interest. He had no need to want for anything, really.

Which brought him to where he stood in the bar, wondering why he was here. He didn't need anything. The alcohol couldn't even get him drunk. He set his drink down, ignoring the flirtatious look from the bartender and waitress. He stepped out into the November air and sighed as he felt his magic calm. He didn't like large crowds.

He looked to the left and then to the right as he crossed the street and neared a loud group of people as they laughed at something the man in the middle said. The man in the middle looked mildly familiar, but he shook his head. He'd met so many people in the years that he's been alive, it was sometimes hard to remember everyone he'd had an encounter with. He shook it off and a tried to pass.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, attempting to walk around the group.

"Hang on, wait," called out a British voice. Harry stopped at the sound. It'd been a year since he'd heard another British voice. "Turn to me."

Harry rolled his eyes and the authority in the mans voice. Still, he wanted to see what the man looked like, since he'd not really gotten a good look in the middle of the night. He turned back to the man. He was a little taller than Harry, but much lither. Harry had quite a bit more muscle, though no one would every call him large. The other man wore a black suit, with a purple silk shirt and black tie. His eyes were scanning him, head to toe, and were brown. They appeared critical of what they saw, as though he was used to being disappointed. He had some scruff on his face, and dark brown hair to match. Green met brown.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked, sounding bored. The man was handsome, striking even, but Harry had seen many attractive men in his time. Being pan-sexual was just the natural thing to be for Harry, because long term companionship was... difficult. So, usually, Harry wasn't picky. But, he did have a thing for brown eyes. When they weren't looking at him like he was a rat.

The brow above the brown eyes quirked in annoyance, "Cheeky aren't you?" He glanced around to the group, who was observing the exchange. Harry noticed some, seemed, nervous. The man sniffed. "Jump up and down."

Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Why on earth would I do that?"

The man frowned, his eyes widening in shock. "Because I said so," he demanded.

"And," Harry responded, his voice still bored, but a frown forming between his eyes.

The man shook the two women's hands off of him and stepped forward. "Wha-how?" He looked him up and down again, as though searching for something.

Harry shook his head in wonder, "How what?" He glanced at the group again, most looking frightened by him or the man. "What on earth is wrong with them?"

The man glanced behind him, before shaking his head, "Leave, all of you." He waved a hand and the group turned and walked in different directions. The man gave Harry his full attention. "Tell me, what is your name?"

Harry raised a brow, "Why?"

The man stared at him in shock. "I..." But, then, he stopped. He looked at Harry as though he were the biggest mystery in the world. He reached up and slowly touched Harry's arm, as though trying to decide if he was real. He stared into Harry's eyes with wonder as him mouth was open in shock.

"I'm waiting for the reason as to why I should give you my name," Harry demanded, relishing in the warmth that the man was giving through his hand.

The man's mouth snapped shut at that, before he blinked. "Please, may I have your name?" He'd sounded like he'd never said please before in his life. And maybe he hadn't. Maybe he was spoiled, and used to getting his way, literally, because he'd said so. Still, he looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth from it, and it made Harry smile.

"My name is Harry," Harry responded. He'd noticed the man still hadn't removed his hand, even as he smiled a million watt smile at him.

"Harry..." the man lead off, trying for his last name.

Harry rolled is eyes, "Harry Black," he conceded. That was another thing he'd done when he'd started traveling, change his name from Potter to Black. Every magical community in the world recognized his name. It was almost as famous as Neal Armstrong in the muggle community.

The smile brightened and Harry found himself smiling back. He wasn't so bad looking when he wasn't so arrogant.

"And you," Harry asked.

"Killgrave," the man responded. He finally stepped back, removing his hand. "My name is Killgrave."

"Well," Harry said, pulling his jacket tighter. "You know my name, and I know... yours, I think." He looked the man up and down again. "Unless there is another name with that."

Killgrave shook his head, looking him up and down again. "You're hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

Harry shook his head. Back to arrogant. "No, I'm not. I just left that bar because I'm on my way home." He turned to leave when Killgrave started.

"Wait..." he raised his hands in front of Harry before he could leave. "How are you doing this?!"

Harry frowned, "Doing what?"

"This!" He motioned his hands up and down. " _This!_ " He emphasized between them.

Harry shook his head, clearly no understanding.

"You..." Killgrave pointed to Harry, "You're not listening to me!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm not." He crossed his arms again. "I'm allowed to not listen to anyone I damn well please," he glared at Killgrave.

Killgrave nodded, also rolling his eyes, "Of course, but just not me!"

Harry stared at him, incredulously, before shaking his head, laughing. "You're dead serious, aren't you?"

Killgrave glared back, "Yes, I am!"

Harry shook his head again, before patting Killgrave on the should. "Good luck, mate." He turned away, rolling his eyes. That muggle thought he could just snap his fingers and get a date with Harry by telling Harry if he was hungry. Still, not a bad way to get attention.

In fact, he'd been the most interesting person to come out of this city. He stopped walking. Should he? No, the guy was arrogant! But, funny. And charming. Despite his arrogance and the way he demanding things. Still, the way he'd said please... Harry shuddered. Despite the fact it appeared the man never said, it sounded delicious from his voice.

' _Dammit!_ ' Harry thought to himself. He turned back around, seeing Killgrave standing there staring at his hands. He looked so helpless. Poor little sod.

"Killgrave," Harry said, a little loudly, so the man heard him. Killgrave's head shot up as he stared in wonder as Harry approached him. Harry reached in to Killgraves own jacket pocket and took out the purple pen he'd know would be there. The man seemed like he carried pens on his person. He took Killgraves warm hand and uncapped the pen. "Here." He wrote down his mobile number and wrote Harry under it. "For when you stop being arrogant and actually ask me on a date like a normal person." He presses the pen back into Killgrave's hand. "Call me when that happens." With that he turned and walked away, a smile on both of their faces.


	2. No One Said It'd Be Easy

AN: So, I'm still working on Uninvited (James Bond). But, here is chapter 2! I have to watch the series to get into the writing. Since I finished Jessica Jones like a week ago, I'm super into writing about Killgrave! I love his character, even though he is really kind of a dick. So, here is this one! Please don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think! I have a plan for this, so don't be surprised by anything!

AN 2: Whoops! I will admit, some of this is written well into the hours of the night. I am always on the brink of sleeping, I swear! This chapter was revised after posting! So, if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry!

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Chapter 2: No One Said It'd Be Easy

"I mean," Killgrave said, pacing back and forth in the office where the therapist sat, being forced to ignore her own patient and listen to him and give him the right advice. "Where does he get off? How?! How does he get off not listening to me? Everyone has to listen to me! It's literally an essential of my existence, and he brushes it off like this mornings crumbs!"

He looked to the therapist, expectantly.

She looked startled, but hesitantly smiled and said, "Well, assuming that you are... uhh.. emitting the pheromones, you said?" He scoffed, but affirmed it. "Wouldn't that mean that there would have to be someone, somewhere out there that was potentially immune to you?"

He grew annoyed at her tone, it was almost condescending, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean, Pamela?"

She lifted her hands, placating, "Only that some people are naturally immune to certain scents and pheromones and what not. There is a child who was naturally immune to HIV. They took her stem cells and it allowed them to cure a man of his HIV. She naturally cannot smell the scent of permanent marker."

Killgrave had heard about that. So, the man was just naturally immune to him. Well, it was lucky he'd probably never see him again. He shouldn't have the man around him. It would make him look weak to Jessica. Except, for the first time in a long time, Killgrave wasn't really thinking about Jessica. Sure, the man looked like the male counterpart to Jessica in many details. Except, he could easily be considered more attractive than Jessica. His eyes... they were so full and empty of life at the same time. Like his. He looked... tired yet very alive. As though he were just waiting for an adventure to distract him with. His lips looked so soft. And, his body was... perfect. He was muscled but not overly so. Like he could fight. And, Killgrave had no doubt in his head that the man had seen death. Harry's eyes reeked of someone who had death in their lives.

And Killgrave, god dammit, he wanted to see him again. He could feel it. This was... destiny. What are the odds that there are two people who are immune to him living in the same city? Damn unlikely. But, now Killgrave had to figure out how to approach.

"What would you suggest I do about him," he asked the therapist.

"Do... you desire him to die?" She hesitated at the start of that question. Apparently, she was feeling brave.

But, Killgrave didn't lash out. Because, honestly, he didn't know. He wanted to see him again, see if he could figure out if he could control him the more exposure he got, or if he was well and truly immune. Maybe he was a psychic. Killgrave had never met one, but he knew that they were out there. There were mutants for fucks sake.

"Let's assume for the time being," he finally replied, "I don't. How would I get his attention?"

The therapist looked thoughtful, "Well, you said he gave you his number. Perhaps, he is a homosexual, gay if you will. He may be assuming you want a date."

Killgrave remembered he'd asked (attempted force) Harry to eat with him. But, not really as a date, right? Or did he. He did find him attractive. Very attractive. Maybe, Killgrave could get a few good fucks out of him.

"So, I go on a date with him," Killgrave concluded. "He was incredibly attractive." He leered at the therapist, who didn't bat an eye. But, then he frowned. "How on earth do I go on a date?!"

The therapist raised an eyebrow, "You've never been on a date before?"

"Not any that I actually had to try at," he growled at his own stupidity in response.

"Just... be yourself?" She said, frowning a little at him. "I'm sorry, I'm married, I haven't dated in almost fifteen years. Be who you want to be, Killgrave. If not yourself, then who you think could be someone that he could see a future with."

Killgrave frowned harder at her tone. "And, if I want him dead?"

Her face showed some worry, but the woman was a self preserver, through and through. She looked him hard in the eye, before responding, "Then, I suppose he's a dead man walking."

He nodded, a smile gracing his face, to the therapist, "My goodness, you actually did it! You helped me work through it! You're... by god you are actually good at this! Huh, you deserve a treat!"

Pamela smiled at his attitude, slight relief coursing through her veins. "Thank you!"

He looked to her patient and smiled, "Pay her double." He looked back to Pamela, whose eyes widened. "You, accept the money." He smirked as she nodded. "Then, don't tell anyone. Or you'll both get into trouble." He nodded to his driver and they left.

He sat in the back of the car as he reflected. He pulled out his phone, where Harry's number was programmed. He stared at his name.

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Harry knew that Killgrave would call. He wasn't an idiot. He had intrigued Killgrave with his blatant defiance. Maybe Harry could teach him some manners while he rode the man. He really wanted to make him say please again. He smirked at the thought. Before shaking his head. He needed to calm down. But, he couldn't get those brown eyes out of his head. They were so... bored. Like how he felt. Almost, like the world could come crashing down and he would almost welcome it.

So, when his phone rang, coming up with an unknown phone number, he smirked. Call it intuition, but Harry had a feeling that it was the man in question.

"Hello," he said into the phone.

"Harry," came the familiar voice. It slithered through his veins, causing Harry's smirk to widen.

"Killgrave," Harry responded, and he heard an almost sigh of relief. "You okay?"

"Great, actually," Killgrave said, and Harry heard some shuffling in the background. "I... was wondering if you would like to perhaps, catch a movie and go to dinner or something."

Harry laughed a little, "Oh, come on! You can do better than that!"

"Excuse me?" Killgrave responded, dangerously.

"I mean, the other night you were all 'jump up and down, go to dinner with me'!" Harry said, easily, "Where are the demands for compliance?"

"Perhaps I've stopped being arrogant," Killgrave said.

Harry's laughing subsided. "Oh?" He said, his eyebrows raising,"And, where were you going to take me?"

Killgrave paused, "Wh-where would you like to go?" He sounded genuinely interested.

Harry thought, "Roscoe's."

There was a pregnant silence. "Roscoe's? The pub? In the worst part of New York. The one where the man stabbed the other man before having a shoot out with three police men?"

"Yes." Harry responded, he tone serious. "Is there something wrong with that place?"

Killgrave paused again, "No. Not at all." Harry heard more rustling, "Tomorrow, then, please? Would... that work... for you?"

Harry smiled at the stammering, "At seven, all right?"

"Yes, that would be perfect. I'll meet you there." More rustling, and tires squealing. "I've got to go, Harry."

"Alright," Harry smirked, trying to envision what was happening, "see you then!"

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Killgrave hated jeans.

Let the world be aware, jeans were terrible. They were the worst invention in the history of the world. They were itchy, for one. And two, they don't breath. How on earth was he supposed to avoid sweating if he was going to have to wear clothing that doesn't breath. He hated not being in control.

The black jeans fit him perfectly, though. He'd paired it with a dark, almost black, purple shirt. He also wore a vest, over it. The vest was leather, but it looked like a suit vest. He wore thick and heavy boots. Not very stylish, but what can you do?

He entered the bar and hour early and glanced around. The bikers and gangbangers barely glanced at him when he entered. What a dump. Though, it was better than that bar he had Cage blow up. Honestly, comparatively, this was the Ritz. He walked over to the bar and leaned forward to shout over the obnoxious music.

The bartender leaned forward to hear. "I'll take a pint of whatever is on tap and for the love of all that is holy, turn the music down to a reasonable level!" He shouted into the man's ear.

The man jerked away, wincing, but complying. The shout, however, had caused the room full of very large and dangerous people to turn to look at him. He casually turned around and surveyed the room as the music was lowered to still able to hear, but could also talk over level.

"Alright, so here is what is going to happen," Killgrave said, clapping his hands together. "Tell me, everyone, with a show of hands, who here has killed someone?" Nearly half of them raised their hands. Killgrave rolled his eyes. "On purpose." A fourth of them lowered their hands. "Sober." A fifth. "Premeditated." Half of those people lowered their hands, leaving only about twelve or so people. "Not avenging someone who was close to you." Six more hands went down. "You six, come here." He pointed to the area around him. "The rest of you, mind your own business and talk quietly among yourselves. No one can leave or tell anyone about this in anyway." The noise level went up.

Killgrave assessed the four men and two women before him. "Starting with blondie, tell me what it is that you did. How did you kill them, using what, for what reasons?"

The blonde biker woman, who seemed to be in her fifties, a lesbian and very unattractive, started, "I was with a woman named Rachel. She cheated on me. I stabbed her thirty-seven times."

Killgrave rolled his eyes, "Boring. Did you go to jail?"

She shook her head, "I hid the body and left a note."

Killgrave nodded, "Classic. Would you do it again?" She nodded, glancing to the woman she had left at the table. He smirked, "Go jump off a bridge." The woman turned and left the bar. He nodded to the next one, who looked a little nervous.

"I killed a man in jail for raping me in the prison yard." He shook his head, "He had his gang buddies hold me down while he did it. So, I tied him to the bed and raped him with a shiv." He looked around, like he was waiting for judgement, "Then, I pinned it on his buddies."

Killgrave looked decidedly impressed. "Wow, that'll teach them." He waved his hand, "Go away, I'll let you live." The man made a beeline to the door.

He looked to the next man, who blinked, "The voices told me to kill the little girl, and I had to. Then, they told me to fuc-"

Killgrave looked disgusted, "Enough! That's... that's just sick! Go turn yourself in!"

The man left. The girl next him, glancing around said, "I killed my stepdad. He was trying to rape me in my sleep. The police are still looking for me. I don't regret it." She looked determined, but still alarmed. Like she knew it was wrong, but for her, it was right.

Killgrave smirked, "How?"

She sighed, "I let him think I was interested and then strangled him with a belt."

Killgrave laughed. "I like your style. You can leave." She smiled back, a little and left.

The next man, a tall muscular black man, said in a heavy voice, "Asshole was looking for it. He'd come to my territory too many times, and I warned him. Then, he tried to fuck my wife." He shook his head, "Shot him twice."

"Convicted?" Killgrave said.

The man shook his head. "He was breaking and entering." He smirked a little, telling Killgrave there was more to the story, but Killgrave asked for basics.

Killgrave nodded, "You can stay." The last man was a large man, with combed up hair, mutton chops and cigar. "You?"

The man took the cigar out of his mouth, "I killed the man who experimented on me by tying him up to a rock and leaving him where I knew he would drown." He looked down, almost sorrowful, "I also killed the woman I love because she'd gone psycho and was possessed."

Killgrave's eyes widened, but he nodded, "Alright, uhm... You can leave and good luck with the whole possession thing." The man left. Killgrave turned back to the black man, "A man is going to come here, he has black hair, green eyes and glasses. Pale complexion. I'm on... a date." He adjusted his back at the phrase. "Make sure nothing happens to us. No one interrupts. Even if its a woman who looks like the female version of my date. Only, no glasses."

The man nodded, before turning to the bar. Killgrave walked over to an empty table, beer in hand, and waited.

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Harry entered the bar, letting another patron out the door. "Excuse me, sir," he said, the man nodded and brushed passed him.

Killgrave was looking down at his pint, at the moment, when the door to the bar closed. It made a bumping noise, causing the man to look up. His eyes began to shine when he saw Harry. He motioned for Harry to come over. He stood and smiled.

"Harry," He greeted. "I'm so glad you actually came!"

Harry's smile turned quizzical, "Been stood up a lot?"

Killgrave's smile dimmed, but he still kept it. "Unfortunately. But, you actually came!" He looked Harry up and down. "You look... amazing."

Harry looked him dead in the eye and spoke, carefully ignoring the compliment, "I said I would. I always keep my word." He was serious. He always had. When he held Ginny's hand, as she recuperated from an attack from Voldemort, and he promised to kill him. Down to always visiting Dobby's grave on the anniversary of his death.

He and Killgrave sat. The waitress came over and asked for his order. "Oh, whatever on tap, love. Only, can I also have a lemon?"

She smiled at his accent and nodded, before motioning to Killgrave's empty glass. "Would you like another, sir?"

"Thank you," Killgrave responded, sounding bored of her. Harry's eyes narrowed at the tone, but didn't say anything.

Once they were alone, Killgrave leaned forward and smiled. "So, Harry! Tell me a bit about you!"

Harry returned the smile a bit, "Well, I'm twenty-seven. I was born and raised in England. After school, I was a copper, made it to detective, actually. Can't really stand authority." He shrugged, "I disliked doing it, though. I didn't like chasing bad guys when most could just... buy their way out." Harry shook his head. "But, I'm now on vacation."

Killgrave smiled. "Wow, a cop, eh?" The waitress came over with their drinks and Harry's lemons. He ignored her, not even bothering to thank her. Harry's eye twitched a little.

But, Harry smiled, "Well, not anymore. I can't do it anymore. I've changed from who I was. I don't like it. I'm... as my friends put it, on a path of self discovery." He mimicked Hermione's voice perfectly down to the know it all attitude.

Killgrave laughed at the high pitched voice. "Best friend, I take it?" Harry smiled. "Yeah, I have one of those. She's... kind of my guardian angel who accidentally takes care of everything and makes me feel bad about it." Jessica always made him feel guilty, like he was always responsible for the things he says. He rolled his eyes at the thought of her.

Harry nodded, knowingly, "And, no matter how hard you try, you..." Killgrave joined in, "Never please them!" They finished together, and they both started laughing.

Harry continued, "They're like the wives we never wanted."

Killgrave nodded, "Yeah, well, someone has to, because I'm never having a wife!" He shuddered and took a drink, "No, thank you."

Harry smiled, shook his head, and sucked a lemon. "Yeah, no I hear you."

Killgrave regarded Harry, looking him up and down. "So, Harry, what brings you to New York, on your journey to self discovery."

Harry smirk, "The culture. The way you can get lost in a room full of people. Everyone looks at you, no one sees you." He gestured around the room. "None of these people give a fuck about us. They wouldn't know us from Adam." He shrugged. "I want that."

Killgrave frowned. "You don't like attention?" Harry shook his head. "Fascinating." He looked Harry up and down again. The man was dressed in a form fitting black shirt, leather pants and leather boots. His hair was tousled, like he just rolled out of bed. His glasses were thin and wire framed. "You are an enigma!"

"I'm... just Harry." He said, shrugging his shoulders. He finished off his beer, motioning to the waitress for another. "I'm nothing special."

Killgrave turned serious, "Oh, no, Harry Black you are something special!"

The waitress chose that moment to appear with Harry's beer. "Thanks, love." He said, smiling at her, before taking another sip.

Killgrave glared at the woman, his eyes flashing dangerously before turning back to Harry. That woman kept interrupting his date. He was doing really well.

"Okay," Harry's hiss at him caused him to be taken out of his inner musings. "Alright, what is your deal?" He leaned dangerously forward.

Killgrave looked at him in confusion and shock. "What do you mean?"

Harry motioned to the waitress, a deep frown forming. "Why are you so angry with her? What, did she spit in your drink before I got here?"

Killgrave frowned back, harder, "I-I... No. I don't know." He lifted his hands in confusion. "I... I'm ... it's like." He felt so out of his depth. It wasn't like this with Jessica. He knew how to speak to her because she had three moods with him. Deceptive, exasperated and bitchy. But, at least she couldn't do anything to him, now. Not since, they both realized, short of a bomb, obliterating him, he was now, for some reason, invincible. The stem cells from his fathers injections had mutated him, further. It was... brilliant. Now, they were practically mates. He sighed, "I wanted this to be a perfect... date. I've literally never done this before. I've never had to. I've always been in control..." He motioned to Harry, "You... I have no control over you. I don't know why... but I want to. And, she..." he pointed his thumb behind him, "she is distracting you just by proximity. I know it's... irrational, but you have no idea how much I want you to like me."

Harry felt shock course through him. Killgrave wanted Harry to like him. That... was so sweet. Killgrave was looking around after a few minutes of a shocked Harry simply staring at him.

"I'm sorry... you want me to like you?" Harry repeated. Then, he chuckled, "Why?"

Killgrave shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, before saying, rather quickly, "Because, out of everyone else, only you could potentially love me unconditionally because I wouldn't have forced it."

Harry blinked at that confession. Forced it? How in the name of Merlin would he have forced Harry, or anyone else, into love? He shook his head. "You really think you're so manipulating that you could force someone to love you?" Killgrave's eyes opened. "No matter what you make people think, Killgrave, or how dependant they become on you, you can't _make_ someone love you. Not even if you had a magic love potion." Harry tried to meet his eye. "And, trust me, my love is genuine. And when I love someone, it is like nothing else you've seen."

Killgrave looked Harry dead in the eyes, green meeting brown. He shifted, slightly. "Do you think I could be someone you could love?"

Harry smiled, almost pityingly. "Well, we'll have to see, won't we?" He sipped more of his beer.


	3. Light You Up

AN: SMUT! Let there be smut! I have to admit, this came out different than when I first started, but I'm happy with the final product. You really get in depth to what Kilgrave is going through. He really grows in this chapter, and I like it, because it will really tug the hearts of everyone when the ending finally happens! Please don't forget to REVIEW this! I eat them up like cookies!

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Kilgrave laid in his bed, contemplating the end of his date with Harry. If it had been anyone else, he would have ordered Harry to come home with him. He would've made him look at him, with lust in his eyes. And, to kiss his way down Kilgrave's body, while maintaining eye contact. He would have made Harry suck him into those full lips, and worship him, like the god he was.

Instead...

 _Flashback_

 _Kilgrave held the door open for Harry, who slid into seat gracefully. He'd offered to drop Harry off at home, who accepted the offer. He'd done it, mostly, to see where the man lived. Not that he couldn't figure it out himself, but this was just simpler. Why waste the effort, when he could just use pretense of being a gentleman._

 _His driver turned back, glancing fearfully at Kilgrave for a moment, before putting on a smile and asking where to. Harry rattled off his address and smiling at him. Then, after a nod from the driver, he turned to Kilgrave._

 _"So..." Harry said, "I've told you a bit about me, tell me a bit about you!"_

 _Kilgrave glanced at him, before looking to the window. "There isn't much to know. You're not really interested."_

 _Harry rolled his eyes, "I am, actually."_

 _Kilgrave silently berated himself. He'd forgotten that he couldn't control Harry for just a minute. "Well, I grew up in England. My parents were scientists. They... weren't pleasant."_

 _Harry nodded, almost sympathetically. "I understand."_

 _Kilgrave turned to Harry, a scowl on his face, "No, you really don't." And, there was no way he could. Despite what his parents had said, about attempting to "cure" him... it was hell for him. Everyday, having to get those extractions. Having to feel the mind numbing pain pour through his body, into his spine. Searing its way into his skull, sometimes to the point that he would pass out. They weren't trying to cure_ him _. They were trying to cure everyone but him. He hated them. Still._

 _Harry met his eye. "Yes, I really do."_

 _Kilgrave's eyes narrowed, "Oh? You think you do? You know what it's like to be tortured by people who are supposed to care for you?!" His voice rose a little at the end._

 _Harry's eyes hardened a little, before he calmed. "Yeah..." he trailed off, looking away, his face closed off._

 _Kilgrave eye'd him, closely. "What do you mean, 'yeah'?"_

 _Harry didn't turn back, but responded with, "My aunt and uncle made me their slave when my parents died when I was one. I was sent to live with them and... they hated me. They forced me to cook for them, clean for them and to sleep under the cupboard of the stairs."_

 _Kilgrave's eyes widened. "Under the stairs?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even his parents gave him a bed._

 _Harry turned back to him. "Defiance meant a beating." He casually lifted his shirt, showing both beautiful muscles and a littering of scars all over his side and stomach. "Or worse." He lowered his shirt. "By the time I was eight, I'd already had four broken ribs, six fractured wrists and my jaw still clicks when I open it too wide." He lowered his shirt. "So, to answer your question, yes, I know what it's like to be tortured by the people who are supposed to care for me." He turned back to the window, officially ignoring Kilgrave._

 _Kilgrave, for his part, continued to stare at Harry in shock. He knew what it was like to be tortured. Daily, probably. All that abuse, while he grew up, and there was someone else out there who had it probably just as bad. Kilgrave looked away, to his own window and reflected. Who would've guessed that he and Harry were so alike... and yet so different._

 _From what he'd gathered from their date, Harry was well passed his abuse and torture and was a healthy member of society. If a little guarded. And he was. He didn't mention names, or dates, or years or places for that matter. Like, Kilgrave knew that when he was eleven, Harry went to boarding school, one that he'd been enrolled at since he was born. He knew his parents had left Harry a small fortune. He also knew his best friend's name was 'Mione. And her husband was Ron, but... not much else. For all of his talking, Harry said very little._

 _Much like Kilgrave. Kilgrave had hardly said anything of importance during their date. But, it'd been going well until this moment._

 _Kilgrave turned back to Harry. What would a normal person say, at this moment? "I..." he started, causing Harry to turn back to him. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean to..."_

 _Harry lifted his hand and put a finger over Kilgrave's lips. He met Harry's green eyes and saw only understanding. Harry nodded to him and he took it as a he didn't need to finish. Clearly, Harry understood more than just abuse._

 _His finger hadn't moved from its place over his lips. "I know." He leaned over the seat, slowly, clearly giving Kilgrave time to move, before swiping his finger across Kilgrave's face and replacing his hand with his lips. Harry's hand traveled back, to the back of his skull and brought him closer when Kilgrave didn't resist. Kilgrave's eyes fell shut the moment he felt Harry's lips. Electricity scoarched through his veins, spreading from where Harry's skin touched his, traveling fast to three places, his groin where his penis began to harden; his mind, which began to overload from the warmth, taste, and smell of Harry; and his heart, which he was seriously not going to look too much into._

 _Harry opened his mouth and nibbled Kilgrave's lips, not too gently, and he felt his lips part and a gasp escape. Immediately, his mouth was filled with Harry's tongue, which plunged and pillaged around his. It licked the roof of his mouth, practically bitch slapped his own tongue during a battle for dominance, suckled his lips like it was its job. Harry's kiss surpassed any other he'd ever received, and, for some reason, Kilgrave couldn't understand._

 _Harry pulled away, with Kilgrave chasing him, and smiled as he brought his other hand to Kilgraves face. He pecked his lips, lingering only slightly, before turning to the driver. The driver had just stopped outside of Harry's penthouse._

 _"Thank you," he nodded to the driver and smiled again at his companion. "Good night." He slid out and shut the door._

 _Kilgrave frowned, and scrambled to get out, "Stay here," he shouted over his shoulder. He ran around the car, shouting Harry's name, who turned back, a small smile on his lips. Kilgrave caught up to Harry, slightly panting._

 _"My goodness," Harry smirked, "you need to start running more." He stepped closer to Kilgrave. "What can I do for you?"_

 _Kilgrave gestured to the car. "What, that's it?" He turned back, "That... absolutely lusty, hot and horny kiss, and it's 'good night'?"_

 _Harry's grin widened, before stepping forward, sliding his hands up Kilgrave's sides. His lips gently brushed against the brown eyed man's own, causing a shudder to course through him. Kilgrave could feel Harry's hard erecting as he pulled Killgrave closer._

 _"The kiss was a promise, darling," Harry whispered to him, his eyes staring directly into the others._

 _"A promise for what?" Kilgrave responded, their lips just barely touching as they spoke to eachother._

 _Harry's smirk grew higher as his lustfilled eyes widened, almost manically. "That I will soon have you as mine," pausing and glancing down to his lips, Harry looked back up, "Kilgrave," he whispered in a voice that was pure sin and sex, before tapping Kilgrave's lips with his tongue in an almost lick and turning and leaving the man stunned and staring._

 _End Flashback_

Kilgrave sighed as his cock started to harden... again. Fuck, he'd already attempted to masturbate 4 times to no avail. He couldn't fucking come. He growled, frustrated and picked up his bong and lighter. Since coming back from the dead, he'd started getting high. He loved it. He didn't have to worry about dying, save for explosived. He couldn't understand what it was, that was keeping him alive. Be it his childs stem cells, or a curse upon him, he just knew that he wasn't dying anytime soon.

So, why not start living, he thought, as he sucked the smoke out of the pipe. Jesus, not even this compared to that kiss. But, it was close. Kilgrave wasn't brave enough yet to try anything harder, because, what if he got addicted and was truly immortal. He'd be addicted forever. No, he couldn't risk getting addicted to anything. Except, maybe Harry. And, even then. He glanced at his phone, looking at Harry's number that had the pic Kilgrave had quickly snapped of him in the bar. He smirked at the expression, remembering Harry laughing and demanding he delete it.

He found himself wondering if this is what the beginning of love felt like. He'd never wanted for anything, simply because he didn't have to. Except for the end of torture. But, even then, his parents gave him the things he needed. He began to think about Harry again, although not sexually. Harry understood torture, though. At the hands of people who weren't supposed to hurt him. And, then, Jessica. He'd yearned for her attention, simply because she knew she didn't have to listen to him anymore. But, this.. with Harry. He is completely immune to Kilgrave. He doesn't even feel a tingle from Kilgrave.

And, Harry understood what Kilgrave went through, probably more than Kilgrave actually knew. If Harry had actually gone through getting beaten for accidentally burning breakfast, he knew what it meant. And, that greatly struck Kilgrave. Someone, who was clearly special like Kilgrave, went through the same problems, but from what Kilgrave could find based on every background check he'd forced people to run, and yet he was completely normal. How did he do it? How did he live, knowing he was so greatly abused, and yet be so forgiving and normal? Kilgrave wanted that almost as much as he wanted Harry. And, he wanted Harry more than anything.

It was 4 am, and he wasn't getting anywhere. He really wanted to see Harry. Or talk to him. He wanted to fuck Harry and see his lips around his cock. He wanted Harry to want it so bad, he simply rode him with no remorse.

And, yet... he wanted Harry to wrap his arms around him. He wanted Harry to hold him as he slept, somehow knowing he'd be safe near Harry. He wanted Harry to like him, and want to do these things with him. He didn't understand where these feelings were coming from, and even why he was feeling them. Why was Harry so special?

"I don't know," he heard Harry say from the phone. Oh... he'd accidentally called Harry.

"Uhm..." he flushed, his eyes wide and a panic rising in his chest. "I-I... fuck. Shit." His eyes widened even more, "How much did you hear?"

He heard Harry chuckle on the other end, "Oh, pet. You called and were quiet for about ten senconds before you started with, 'how does he live, knowing he was so greatly abused, and yet so forgiving and normal.'" Kilgrave felt a little bit of the panic he felt diminish. That wasn't so bad. "Then, you said you wanted my lips around your cock." Kilgrave felt his face drain of blood. The panic was back. "And, to ride you with no remorse." Sweat began to form, he'd fucked up by accident. Harry was never going to want to see him, and then Kilgrave would have to go to drastic measures to ensure that Harry didn't escape- "I'm so fucking horny now, you mad bastard." He heard another chuckle, though this one sounded fun and dangerous. "I want to suck your brains out through your dick."

Oh, hell, yes. Kilgrave felt his arousal return with a vengance. "Harry..." He felt his confidence return only so slightly. This... was a part of dating someone. Though, it was happening sooner than expected. Why? What had he said to make Harry do this?

"Shh," Harry whispered. "We're not doing this tonight." Kilgraves arousal practically ripped itself off at that sentance. Why the FUCK not?! "But, I'll give you a little something to remember me by." He whispered to him. "If you say the magic word."

"P-please... fuck, please, Harry... Anything." Kilgrave groaned at him. Then, he heard a beep indicating that the call had ended. He stared at his phone for a minute. Harry... hung up on him? Harry hung up on him. HARRY HUNG UP ON HIM?! What the ever loving fuck had he done that for? That motherf- BEEP! He had a new text message.

He pressed the open button and nearly creamed his sheets. Harry had taken a Selfie. He was shirtless, flushed, with green eyes dark and full of lust. His chest was streaked in come, having clearly just wanked. He was sweating and the picture was slightly fuzzy, not terrible, but enough to indicate that he'd been shaking. Harry had masturbated to him talking about Harry. Fuck... was that the tip of Harry's penis in the corner of the pic?

Kilgrave fumbled for his own, his arousal in full blast as he looked at Harry's face, imagining him right in front of him, and being under him. Looking up at him with those dark, lust ridden, eyes as he masturbated under him, encouraging Kilgrave to reach completion at the same time. His moan as the first rope shot out and coated him chest, begging to be licked off.

"Oh, fuck!" Kilgrave shouted, shooting up his own chest. His orgasm was long awaited and a welcome relief. But, he kept coming, rope, after rope after rope of come streaked his chest. He looked down and saw only his right nipple was protected, and mostly because his arm got hit, as it was protecting it as he wanked. He layed back in bed, convulsions still coursing through him. He glanced back at the screen of his phone, as he reached for the towl he'd put on his night stand. His penis gave a wiggle at the sight, but Kilgrave had to shut the phone off. He couldn't go another round even if he tried.

Harry was going to be the death of him.


	4. Gonna Cut You Down

AN: Sorry for the delay. But, fantastic news! I'm pregnant! So... that means I'm wayyyy more tired! And, less likely to update. I'm really sorry, guys! I'll try to be better, though if you guys could, like, I don't know, nudge me every now and then, like with a PM, just to say, "hey, don't forget to write!" it might be easier. I know that's asking a lot of you guys, and it's totally my own responsibility, but when you're tired and pregnant, it's hard to remember to write.

So, this is mostly a filler for the set up. So, bear with me, while I try to built to something interesting! Please PM and REVIEW! They help, like, so much!

* * *

Harry turned down an alleyway, his steps never hesitating. He knew the woman was following him. He didn't know who she was, be it a spy for the ministry or someone who still lived from the war and hated him, or just someone who wanted to rob him, but he wasn't amused. He knew this alleyway led to nowhere, which is exactly what he wanted.

He fiddled with the Gaunt ring, activating the Invisibility cloak, then faded into the shadows and waited. The woman walked, almost casually (but, not casually enough), passed him and glanced around. He saw the look of confusion on her face as she saw the dead end and no sign of him. She was quite pretty, actually. Her hair was almost as black as his own, and her eyes were green, but his were bottle green, while her chartruse. She was pale, with bags under her eyes, and big lips. Honestly, Harry wouldn't be surprised if someone thought they were related.

She looked around, a frown forming between her eyes. He stepped out of the shadows behind her and deactivated the invisibility. She turned around and jumped when she saw him, her surprise evident.

"What do you want," Harry demanded.

She closed her eyes, catching her breath, "You scared the shit out of me." Harry didn't respond, so she continued, "I'm here to help you."

"With?" He wondered how this woman could help him with anything. Was she a prosititute?She was a little too skinny for his tastes. He liked his men lean, not women. He preferred women to be curvy and full figured. He glanced her up and down, then crossed his arms.

"Look, I know what it's like." She said, raising her hands placatingly, "To be controlled by him. Forced."

"Him? Controlled?" What in the hell was she talking about?

"Yes," she said, clearly thinking he understood. "I can help you. I'll keep you from him, and protect you."

"You'll protect me?" Harry asked, still not understanding what she was saying.

She nodded, "Yes, I will." She stuck her hand out, "I'm Jessica. Jessica Jones."

Harry glanced at her hand, "Fascinating." He didn't take it, so she awkwardly pulled it back. "Look, I have no idea what you're blathering on about, but I have an appointment to keep." He turned around, "Have a good life, Jessica Jones."

"I'm sorry he's making you do this." She said, hurridly, "I know how much it hurts, when you don't listen." She rushed around him, "It's like knives, isn't it? When you don't. Like every cell in you body wants to listen, and it's all you want, too." She sighed, and looked at him with pity. "I know, okay? I get it. But, I can help you. I'm... I'm strong." She walked over and grabbed a bin lid, and proceeded to bend it in half. It was an impressive feet of strength, not that Harry _was_ all that impressed.

He'd seen a half giant tie a shot gun into a bow. That would've been impressive. She continued with her rant though.

"I'll keep you from doing it! I promise! It'll wear off eventually, I know it will." She smiled, sort of reassuringly, and put her hand on his elbow. "It did for me."

Harry stared at her, with eyebrows raised, "My god," he said, breathily. She nodded to him, in apparent understanding, though Harry knew she didn't. "You are absolutely insane." He jerked his arm back, and walked around her, "I cannot wait to tell 'Mione about this." He waved his hand in the air, "See you around, Jessica Jones," he called out, over his shoulder, before turning out of the alleyway and leaving her in shock.

)page break(

Harry walked into his apartment, setting the keys down, thinking about what the woman had said to him. She had obviously been following him for more than just a day. She had to have been following him, and someone he knew, for a while now. He frowned as he thought of who he could have been in contact recently that made her think that he was being "controlled" by someone.

The only person was Killgrave. But, Harry knew for a fact he wasn't being controlled by the man. It was impossible. Not only was Killgrave a muggle, and Harry a wizard, but Harry was also the Master of Death.

Still, this woman was convinced he had no control over his own actions. That caused minor concern in Harry to form. He frowned, fearing what this could mean if he c _ould_ be controlled. Could someone figure out he was the Master of Death and then control him?

What should he do? He walked over to the oven, where he had set his blueberry scones from the previous night. After, he began to make tea, knowing his guest would be annoyed if he showed up and Harry didn't feed him. He rolled his eyes at his thoughts, but waved his hand anyway. The moment his hand lifted, a figure stood before him.

He was a thin man, almost skeletal, with a large nose. His hair was black and receeding, causing the skeletal looking face to look moreso. He wore a suit, black with a trench coat and carried a cane, while on his finger sat an exact replica of the Gaunt ring, only the stone was white, instead of black. Death looked to his master stoically, silently judging and assessing him.

"Yes, Master," he drawled in question, his eyes sweeping Harry up and down.

"For the love of all that is holy, Azazel," Harry rolled his eyes, "stop with the 'Master' bullshite." He gestured to the chair in his dining room, where the scones already sat, before, with another wave of his hand, the tea tray floated out of the kitchen. Death, gracefully, sat in the opposite chair of his.

He was silent as he watched his master pour tea for him, adding the three sugars and four creams (just the way he like it) before sliding across the table. His master made his own tea, grabbed a scone, then gave Death his full attention. Still, Death said nothing, simply waited.

Finally, Harry's patience waned. "Alright, I know you've kept an eye on me. I know you know everything I've been doing." He glanced around, noticing the just out of sight shadows that crept along the walls. "I know about your spies."

Death didn't glance around, though he was aware that his reapers had now made an exit with his appearance. He took a sip of tea, a bite of scone and chewed thoughtfully, before answering.

"You're speaking, of course, of Jessica Jones," he said finally, watching the annoyance flash across his master's face.

"Yes," Harry responded, sipping his own tea. "What on earth is wrong with her? Why does she think I'm being controlled?"

Death didn't answer immediatly. He tilted his head to the side, assessing the situation. There were things his master needed to know immediately, and things he would learn on his own. "She is a meta-human. A mutant, if you will. She has incredible strenth, as you observed. She thinks you're being controlled because she herself was controlled."

"By who?"

"Not my place to tell," Death said, taking another bite of scone.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Is it Killgrave? Is he also a mutant?" He leaned forward, "Could he control me?"

Death responded, after licking his lips. "No, Master. Not in this lifetime, or the next, could Killgrave ever be able to control you." He sipped his tea, "You are the Master of Death. There is no force on this plane of existance, or the next, that could control you."

Harry sighed in relief. Well, that settled that fear. He took a sip of his tea, a bite of scone, rubbed his head a little. At least he knew he couldn't be controlled by anyone. And, Killgrave wasn't able to control him, which meant that his feelings for Killgrave were real. But, then, he realized as he was staring into his tea, that Death hadn't answered the other two questions he had asked.

Harry looked up, his mouth open to ask again, but Death had disappeared. _Ass_ , he thought, sipping his tea again.

)page break(

Killgrave smiled at Harry as they walked side by side through the park. They were heading to a Chinese resturaunt that Killgrave had heard of. He had asked several people what the best Chinese place was, and almost all of them had said the place that he had suggested to Harry.

He had so hoped for more kissing in a car, but Harry had mentioned that it wasn't far from his flat, and that Killgrave should ride over and then walk. Killgrave was both excited and disappointed. Any time with Harry was good enough for him, though, and so he agreed easily.

Harry was recanting his week. He'd apparently had an old family friend over for tea, though the friend had business to attend so was only able to stay a small while. Killgrave didn't like the idea of Harry being with people he knew and Killgrave didn't, mostly because what if it was an old fling?

"Who is this old friend?" Killgrave asked, genuinely curious.

"His name is Ezra," Harry smiled, almost fondly. "His this old, ancient, family friend who walks with a cane, though, I'm pretty sure he just has it to seem 'imposing'."

Killgrave smiled back. And old, ancient family friend was fine, then. "What was his visit for?"

"He was offering me council," Harry said, casually bringing his hand to Killgraves back, as they entered the establishment. They were seated before they began their conversation again.

"Council on what?" Killgrave asked, glancing at the menu, though he already knew he'd be getting the Kung-Pao chicken. Fried rice, no egg.

Harry perused the menu, before responding, "I asked him over because of this woman that was following me."

Killgrave glanced up sharply at that, "Following you?"

Harry nodded, not noticing the change in Killgrave, as he was engrossed in the menu. "Yeah... some crazy bint name Jessica. She told me she could 'help me' and that she knew what it was like to be forced." Harry rolled his eyes, setting the menu down, before noticing the very blank look on Killgrave's face. "Are you alright?"

Killgrave blinked rapidly, before nodding, "Yes, sorry." He took a sip of water, before smiling, "I just... the strangest thing. I had someone walk up to me, just this week and ask if I knew the devil was inside of me. It just... you know, reminded me of that." He chuckled, before turning to the waitress who walked up to take their orders.

Jessica was in so much trouble.

* * *

AN: Just so you guys know "Ezra" is another name for the angel of death. Harry would NEVER give out Death's true name. And, while many people know his name, and say it, it's not really knowing his name, so much as, knowing HIM.


End file.
